In the Courts of Memory, 1858-1875 Part 14

"Shall we now have a Germanic pulse?" the Empress risked, and called Comte Solms. "Think of something pleasant," said the inventor. "A ballet is a nice thing to think of," said the Princess Metternich, in her shrill voice.

"Regarde, comme il va vite," the inventor cried, and he showed the paper with the most extraordinary wavy lines. Every one laughed, and no one more than Comte Solms himself.

Six o'clock came very quickly, and the Empress, rising, gave the signal for our departure.

The Marquis de Caux took me in to dinner. He is the most popular and sought-after gentleman in all Paris. No ball is complete without him, and his presence at any dinner is sufficient to a.s.sure its success. He leads all the cotillons worth speaking of, and is a universal favorite. He allowed his secret to leak out (_un secret de Polichinelle_), which all Paris is talking about.

I swore secrecy; but I can tell you that it can be contained in one word, and that word is SIMPATICO, which is Italian for his rendezvous with HER at the American Doctor Sim's house, for it is there he meets her. _Devine qui peut!_ (Guess who can!) I have not said anything.

At nine o'clock we all adjourned to the theater in the Palace, to reach which we pa.s.sed through many rooms we had never seen before, and through a long gallery. The theater is very handsome, and as large as most of the theaters in Paris. There is always one theatrical performance during each week while their Majesties are in Compiegne. The company of the Theatre Francais had been commanded to play this evening. The piece chosen was the latest one of emile Augier, which has had a great success in Paris, called "Le fils Giboyer." emile Augier, who was invited specially, was present.

Madeleine Brohan, Coquelin, Breton, and Madame Favard had the princ.i.p.al roles. Such distinguished artistes as those could not but give the greatest enjoyment. The theater is very handsome; there are only boxes and the parquet; the Imperial Loge reaches from the first tier of boxes to the last seats of the parquet in the shape of a sh.e.l.l. Any one standing up there could touch, on raising the arm, the velvet draperies of the Imperial box.

The theater is entirely lighted by wax candles, of which there must have been thousands, and all the scenery belonging to the play was sent especially from Paris.

Their Majesties sat in the center of the Imperial Loge, and the lady guests and the most important gentlemen, according to their rank, were placed beside and behind them.

The other gentlemen sat in the parquet, and circulated about between the acts.

In the boxes were places for the Court ladies, also the ladies invited from the neighboring chateau and from Compiegne.

The whole a.s.semblage certainly presented the most dazzling and magnificent sight. The ladies in their beautiful toilettes and superb jewels showed to the greatest advantage in this brilliantly lighted theater. The Empress was gorgeous in yellow tulle covered with lace and jewels. She wore the famous Regent diamond, which belongs to the French Crown, in her corsage, and a superb diamond tiara and necklace. Princess Metternich, who is known to be the best dressed lady in Paris, had a black tulle dress embroidered in gold; she wore a tiara of diamonds and emeralds and a necklace of the same.

When their Majesties entered every one rose and courtesied deeply; their Majesties bowed graciously in response. The Master of Ceremonies gave the signal, and the curtain rose immediately.

The actors seemed inspired to do their best, as well they might, with such a brilliant audience before them.

I wondered if they did not miss the _claque_, to which actors are so accustomed in France. You know the _claque_ is a set of men who are hired to clap at certain points in the play indicated beforehand to them, in order that the audience may appreciate the most salient points and join the applause, if they wish to.

Every one enjoyed the play immensely. There were portions of it which were very pathetic. I noticed the Emperor was visibly affected, and the Empress wiped from her eyes _una furtiva lagrima_, as Donizetti's song has it.

I know _I_ cried my lace handkerchief wet.

The representation lasted till about half-past ten, and after our return to the salon the Emperor sent for the artists, who had by this time changed their toilettes. Their Majesties talked long, and, I should say, familiarly with them, and, judging from the way they laughed and chatted, they seemed to feel quite at their ease, especially Coquelin, who apparently put the Emperor in a very good humor. At eleven o'clock refreshments were pa.s.sed round, the carriages were announced, and making a deferential "reverence" the artists took their leave, carrying with them an ornament with the monograms of their Majesties as a souvenir of their visit.

I never saw the Empress look so beautiful as she did to-night. She certainly is the most exquisite creature, and what is so charming about her is her utter lack of self-consciousness. Her smile is bewitching beyond description, her complexion perfect, her hair of the Venetian type, and her profile cla.s.sical. Her head is so beautifully put on her shoulders, her neck and shoulders are absolutely faultless. None of the many portraits painted of her, not even Winterhalter's, do her the least justice; no brush can paint and no words can describe her charm. I think the famous beauty, Countess Castiglione, cannot begin to compare with her.

Their Majesties withdrew. The guests from the chateau and those from Compiegne took their departure, and we all dispersed to our several apartments.

I am beginning to learn the ways of the life of Compiegne.

At nine o'clock our tea, coffee, or chocolate (as we choose) is brought to our rooms by a white-stockinged and powdered valet.

If you are very energetic, you can go for a walk in the park, or (as I did to my sorrow) a visit to the town. But you are not energetic more than once, because you do not find it worth your while, as you must hurry back, and change your dress and shoes before appearing in the salon a little before eleven o'clock, the hour for breakfast. You remain in the same dress until you change for dinner or the Empress's tea. You find every morning in your room a programme for the day.

_Dejeuner a onze heures.

Cha.s.se a tir a deux heures.

Comedie Francaise a neuf heures._

So you know what to wear and what to expect; but the invitation to tea is always made by the Empress's private _huissier_, who knocks at your door toward five o'clock and announces, "Her Majesty the Empress desires your presence at five o'clock."

The _toilette de rigueur_ for this occasion is a high-necked long silk dress, and you generally remain until six o'clock.

If you are not summoned to her Majesty's tea, tea is served in your own salon, where you can invite people to take tea with you, or you are invited to take tea with other people.

If there is a hunt, the ladies wear their green-cloth costumes and the gentlemen wear their hunting gear (a red coat, velvet cap, and top-boots).

The gentlemen wear _culottes courtes_ the first evening they arrive, and on such fine occasions as the _curee_, and at the Gala Theater, where outsiders are invited; otherwise they always wear _pantalon collant_, which is the most unbecoming thing one can imagine in the way of manly attire.

At six o'clock you dress for dinner, always in ball dress, and a little before seven you meet in the Grande Salle des Fetes. At dinner the guests are placed according to their rank, but at _dejeuner_ there is no ceremony, and you engage your partner after your heart's desire. Those who are high up at dinner try to get as far down at the end of the table as possible.

With me it is all ups and downs; at breakfast I am 'way up to the very top, and at dinner 'way down.

After _dejeuner_ the Master of Ceremonies inquires what you wish to do; that is to say, if there is nothing special mentioned on the programme, such as a review, or manoeuvers, or a _cha.s.se a courre_, when all are expected to join.

Do you wish to walk? You can tramp up and down the one-thousand-metre-long trellis walk, sheltered from wind and rain.

Do you wish to drive? There are carriages of all descriptions, _chars-a- bancs_, landaus, pony-carriages, and even a donkey-cart, at your service.

Do you care to ride? There are one hundred and fifty horses eating their heads off in the Imperial stables waiting for you.

Do the gentlemen wish to go shooting? There are countless gamekeepers booted and spurred, with guns and game-bags on their shoulders, impatient to accompany you.

Whatever you do, you are expected to be in your rooms before four o'clock, which is the time the Empress will send for you, if she invites you for tea.

The _cercle_ always follows each repast, and dancing or music always follows the _cercle_. Tea is served at the Emperor's salon at eleven o'clock, after which their Majesties retire, and you do the same.

_November 26th._

DEAR M.,--A very embarra.s.sing thing happened to me this morning.

We thought we could manage an excursion to the town. I wanted to see the Cathedral, and it did not seem far away.

Therefore, bright and early, at nine o'clock we started on our trip.

We saw the Cathedral; but I had not counted on the time necessary for the change of toilette, which I had to make before _dejeuner_.

I found on my table an envelope containing this poetry, which I inclose, from Theophile Gautier. I suppose he considered it as a sort of _amende honorable_.

a MADAME CHARLES MOULTON

Vos prunelles ont bu la lumiere et la vie; telle une mer sans fond boit l'infini des cieux, car rien ne peut remplir l'abime de vos yeux, ou, comme en un lotus, dort votre ame a.s.souvie.

Pour vous plus de chimere ardemment poursuivie, quel que soit l'ideal, votre reve vaut mieux, et vous avez surtout le bias.e.m.e.nt des Dieux, Psyche, qu'eros lui-meme a grand'peine eut ravi.

Votre satiete n'attend pas le banquet, et connaissant la coupe ou le monde s'enivre, dedaigneuse a vos pieds vous le regardez vivre.

Et vous apparaissez par un geste coquet, rappelant Mnemosyne a son socle appuyee comme le souvenir d'une sphere oublie.